


Opiate of the Masses

by Josey (cestus), junko



Series: Shattered Souls [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urahara has prepared a gigai for Zabimaru at Renji’s request.  Meanwhile, Renji begins to realize this means he’ll have to suffer through high school alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opiate of the Masses

**Author's Note:**

> This is a canon divergence that takes place after the Aizen’s betrayal and before the Bount Arc.

She was beautiful, a true work of art. Kisuke sighed regretfully and consigned her to the recycling bin as unsuitable. 

His next attempt was far too masculine. He'd suspect some avenging residual reiatsu from Zabimaru, though that was possibly being somewhat paranoid. More likely he was simply over-compensating. That one followed the first.

His third design was acceptable. Not as well-endowed as young Orihime, she still had enough up top to keep the gentlemen's attention, and her hair, which fell to her waist in a platinum blonde sheet, would be the envy of every woman she met. Her face he made slightly too angular to be pretty, though she was certainly striking, and the bright green eyes should suit the venomous little snake quite well.

Kisuke gave the 3-D rendering a final twirl and frowned a little, leaning forwards until his nose almost touched the screen. The tattoos that wound across her back from shoulders to pert buttocks were just slightly misaligned and that would never do. Oh goodness, no. Accuracy and attention to detail was everything when making gigai. 

Which reminded him, he needed to find some for those mod souls, and he really didn't have the materials to make more at short notice. This young lady was going to be quite expensive enough. If it weren't for the research potential, he wouldn't be doing it at all. For the mod souls, he supposed he'd have to fall back on his trusty stockpile.

Humming quietly to himself, Kisuke saved the completed 'Zabimaru', transferred the data to the manufacturing unit and then, leaving the machinery to churn and grind alone, pottered up to the storage room to begin searching. 

To the uninformed eye it would seem like a vast choice. Gigai piled on body part upon mutilated torso like some kind of nightmarish serial killer's fetish studio. Kisuke knew better. A good half of what he had available were old models, suitable only for short term emergency use in non-combat situations, and the other half were specially purposed. Of course that was the half he needed to draw from for the mod souls. Reiatsu concealing was a must if the training was to proceed as planned.

He selected and discarded several potentials before settling on two for his original creations. A tiny doll-like female for the illusionist, and a nondescript gangling youth with a missing eye and stringy hair for the shape shifter. Since that one was going to need substantial work anyway, he could make it look more presentable as he went along. 

The final one was more of a problem. Tessai and he had agreed that a spatial displacement ability would be an excellent compliment to the other two, and that meant it needed a strongly kido resilient gigai. They did not grow on trees. Or apparently, Kisuke sighed as he peered around blearily, in his storage room. Maybe he would have a make a new one after all. Unless...! Now that was a thought.

He darted to the far side of the room, kicked aside a stack of left legs, and dragged open a cupboard door marked, 'Cleaning Materials!' Sure enough, just as he remembered, one of Jinta's gigai was propped in the corner covered by a drop-sheet. It was a more mature version than the current one, which he'd made in a flush of enthusiasm a couple of years ago when raw materials hadn't been in such short supply. Manufactured using the highest grade reishi and kishi, it was designed to withstand kido up to level seventy and anything a hollow below the level of an arrancar could throw at it. If that couldn't cope with Tessai's mutated kukanten'i nothing could. 

"Tessai?" he called out a few minutes later as he lifted a section of floor in the third laboratory and clapped down the wooden steps into the concealed workspace below. "How long would you say we have until Jinta hits another growth spurt?" With gigai draped over his shoulders and dangling from beneath both arms he looked for all the world like a demented octopus. 

The sun had risen, set and was rising again by the time he finally surfaced leaving the three mostly completed gigai to finish curing. Yawning and blinking, Kisuke pottered into the kitchen and gave the coffee machine a hopeful poke. It coughed and looked apologetic. Any second now it was going to start pouring smoke. No matter what Tessai said about inanimate objects being incapable of emotions, Kisuke knew that the thing hated him. 

"I thought you had gigai to check on," Tessai rumbled from the doorway in an ill-concealed attempt to get Kisuke to stop sabotaging the kitchen equipment.

"Hm?" Kisuke replied, ceding the rattling coffee maker to its rightful master. The damnable machine immediately made a happy pinging noise and a minute or two later the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. Kisuke, now seated at the table with his forehead resting on its cool comfortable surface, inhaled appreciatively. Another gigai to check on. Oh yes, of course. Zabimaru. 

He blinked up at the clock, frowned and forced his brain into some simple calculations. Another hour or so should see her complete. Perhaps he could persuade Abarai to... no, he was pre-empting himself. There were still things that needed to be done before the nue could take up residence. For one thing he would have to ensure the conditioning unit worked properly on living souls. The resonance of their reiatsu was bound to be somewhat different which would make separating them a tricky task. 

A sudden shudder of disgust at the idea of being entirely cut off from his zanpakutō shook Kisuke to the core and he took the coffee Tessai offered with a wordless nod of thanks. If Central 46 had had their way, he would have lost Benihime. 

The moment his thoughts grew turbulent, Benihime stirred, mentally cupping his cheek with a her warm hand, and whispered, _Do not concern yourself, sweetling, I am here. Always._

 _I know,_ Kisuke returned, stupidly grateful for her reassurance. And doubly grateful all over again to Yoruichi. He sighed and propped his chin in his hand, eyes closed, and dragged up the good memories to replace the bad. Some of those early days had been fun, before the years and the implications of true exile sank in.

Then he shook his head and snorted quietly in self-disgust. If he was feeling this maudlin, he should definitely sleep. 

_I agree entirely, my dear. You spend far too much time playing with those pointless toys of yours._ Benihime's voice took on a slyer tone. _Perhaps you should seek out Yoruichi on your way to bed. A sad enough face may incline her to offer some comfort ._

Kisuke ignored the comment, yawned widely and slurped down a mouthful of coffee. Sleep was the thing. They could try out the new gigai tomorrow, after Abarai had finished his patrol, or better yet the day after since that was probably the weekend. In the meantime, maybe he could persuade Yoruichi to find it some suitable clothing. 

_I'm sure she wouldn't object to being asked,_ Benihime suggested, suggestively. _She will be leaving soon. This could be your last opportunity._

Kisuke would have rolled his eyes if he could have opened them far enough. His zanpakutō's obsession with Yoruichi was as long lived as his own, though far less subtle. 

_Considering her reaction the last time we tried that, I think we should let her come to us,_ he said with a finality that brooked no argument. He sensed Benihime's moue of disappointment and resigned himself to interesting dreams.

Pushing up from the table, he waved a hand at Tessai – he looked wide awake, the bastard – and wandered off in the general direction of bed. He'd worry about gigai and clothing and Abarai when he was less tired.

#

Renji spent another uneventful patrol listening to Zabimaru go on and on about how ‘she’ needed her space. It was doing his head in. Especially the part where his zanpakuto was trying out its new gender assignment. “I don’t care how many times you say it to yourself. I’m not calling you ‘she’ until I see the body,” Renji grumbled as he sheathed Zabimaru for the night.

Even though they were done for the night, he didn’t hurry back inside. He squatted on the roof of the shōten looking out over the breaking dawn. The sunlight and the angle of the roof split his shadow in two. Renji frowned at the doubled-image and tried to quell this creepy-crawly feeling skittering along his spine. 

Or, maybe it was just high school Renji was dreading. 

Because, once inside and back in his gigai, it took him a half hour to figure out what to do with his hair, and then he took another twenty minutes making adjustments to the uniform so it looked less dorky. The lady Yoruichi perched on the edge of his mattress in her cat-form and chuckled the whole time. “Our little Renji-chan is turning into such a proper teenager.”

He made a rude gesture at her, which just made her laugh harder.

But, because it had taken him so long to get ready, it was breakfast on the go. Tessai handed him a cup of something black and bitter. It smelled much better than it initially tasted, and, like fine sake, it got smoother the more you drank. By the time Renji had finished a cup of it, he was asking for more.

“Too much and you’ll be bouncing off the walls,” Tessai warned him, probably the first full sentence the big guy had said to Renji.

As Tessai refilled it, Renji eyed the cup suspiciously, “Magic?”

“Science,” Urahara corrected as he breezed in to collect his own cup of the stuff, though he did seem to treat the contraption the drink came out of with a nervous sort of deference. He stepped some distance away from the table the pot sat on, before settling with his back against the wall near the door. It was the first time Renji had seen him properly without his hat, and Urahara now hid his eyes under a curtain of straw-coloured hair that flopped over his nose. His kimono was pink and seemed to be covered in white fat, friendly cartoon kitties. He held the large black coffee mug with the words ‘Otaku University’ on the side which he used like his fan to hide the rest of his face. 

Lifting the mug in a salute to Renji, Urahara continued, “The blessed chemical of caffeine. Though, to be fair, Clarke’s Third Law says that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, and coffee has, in my opinion, several divine qualities. Many people consider it a sacrament, including myself.”

Jinta stuck his bright red head in the door and translated, “In other words, don’t get between the boss and his morning coffee.”

Ururu trailed in a beat behind Jinto nodding solemnly, looking as if they were discussing a tragic death in the family.

“You’d better hurry,” Yoruichi scolded as she head butted Renji’s thigh where he sat cross-legged on the floor. “You don’t want to be tardy, dear.”

#

After eating a breakfast he bought at a convenience store on the way to school, Renji spent the rest of the day alternately terrified and bored out of his mind. He thought he’d had a handle on things after that first day, but the routines were killing him. There were so many new things he encountered―things everyone else seemed to know. At least Ichigo had stepped in a couple of times to surreptitiously show him the ropes and make excuses for his ‘idiot cousin from the sticks.’ Now the teacher droned on and on, and Renji wanted to pluck his own eyes out just as an excuse to get taken out of this living hell.

 _I’ll be glad not to be here,_ Zabimaru purred, as Renji hunted through his courier bag for the ‘Social Studies’ textbook.

“What? No fair!” Renji blurted out loud. It had never occurred to him that Zabimaru wouldn’t have to go through this mind-numbing part of being in the human world.

The people in the back of the room where Renji had been placed stared at him. 

He gave them a shrug, “Not my best subject,” he said, as if that explained everything. One of the girls returned a sneering look that seemed to imply she was surprised Renji had any subjects that qualified as better than any other. He considered giving her the same rude gesture he’d used on Yoruichi this morning, but figured he might ‘shock the children’ and he could finally end up in this mysterious detention that he’d been threatened with twice already this morning.

Social Studies, it turned out, was not the study of social situations at all, but an odd combination of civics and history. When he flipped open the book to the chapter entitled ‘Feudal Hierarchy,’ Renji found himself actually reading with a certain amount of interest about this ‘outdated’ social structure that reinforced class divisions. The chapter continued on about how certain people of that time period escaped poverty by becoming part of the samurai class during something called the ‘Edo Period,’ and had Renji feeling like this was all very familiar… until he hit the discussion about democracy.

It wasn’t until Ichigo tapped him on the shoulder that Renji realized his nose was still stuck deep in the book. “Yeah, see how I never pictured you as the studious type,” Ichigo was saying. “Are you seriously going to read a textbook during our one chance to get outside? I would have thought lunch was your favourite subject.”

“Is there a library?” Renji asked.

“Whoa,” Ichigo stepped back with his hands up as though to ward off some horror. “Okay,” he said, creeping closer and cautiously lifting the edge of Renji’s headband, and squinting as if he could see into Renji’s brain. “Who’s really in that gigai? You know you’re wearing Abarai Renji’s body, right? You might want to get out of that before you catch his cooties.”

Renji slapped Ichigo’s hand away, and reluctantly put the book back into his bag. “Shut up.”

Ichigo waited while Renji collected his things. “Did Uncle Hat-and-Clogs pack you a nice lunch or are you buying?”

Renji pulled out the change from breakfast from his pants pocket. “Any chance this will buy me something?”

“A sticky bun, maybe,” Ichigo said sadly. Then a wicked sort of smile split his face, “C’mon, you can help me bully Ishida into getting us all burgers.”

#

Renji sat with the others on the crumbling asphalt of the school’s flat rooftop. Ishida hadn’t been that difficult to convince, and Renji was amazed to discover that he had a taste for something so greasy and disgusting-smelling. Though considering some of the things he’d eaten in Inuzuri, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that hot and relatively-fresh read as delicious.

“Good god, Abarai,” Ishida said. “Don’t they feed you at the shōten?”

Renji paused with his mouth crammed full of the gold-crisp French fries, “What do you mean?” he sputtered around the food.

“Don’t mind Renji,” Ichigo told Ishida, eating much the same way, “He’s got the table manners of a pig.”

“Oi,” Renji gave Ichigo a shove, “Dog. At least compare me to a dog.”

“Dude. Have you seen yourself?” Ichigo shoved Renji back, hard enough for him to lose a few fries out of the side of his mouth. “The strays in the alley look like they’re having a tea ceremony compared to you.”

Ishida watched them over the top of his square glasses and let out a contented sigh. “This is nice.”

Ichigo and Renji had gotten into a shoving match, so they both looked over to ask in unison, “What is?”

“I dearly hope you’re planning on staying around a long time, Abarai,” Ishida said, still smiling. “You make a much easier target for Ichigo.”

#

On the way back to the classroom, Renji sidled up to Ishida, “You’re the smart one, right?”

“And the best looking. Your point, Abarai-san?”

“This democracy thing from class, you think the library has any more books about it?” Renji hooked his thumb at the room they’d just passed labelled ‘Media Center.’

“Democracy?” Ishida stopped walking to stare at Renji, so Renji stopped, too. Ishida seemed to be trying to read something in Renji’s face or puzzle something out. Then, after a few moments, he pulled Renji toward the library and made a bee-line to the stacks marked ‘politics and economics.’ He pulled two books from the shelves and handed them to Renji, “No, what a shinigami like you needs is Marx. Lots and lots of Karl Marx. Let’s start you off with The Communist Manifesto; you can work up to Das Kapital.”


End file.
